


Tying Red Ends

by DarkestHeir



Category: Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: Age Difference, Aromantic, Background Relationships, F/F, Getting Together, M/M, Red String of Fate, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:31:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkestHeir/pseuds/DarkestHeir
Summary: The tale of a Moomin and the red string tied to his finger.





	Tying Red Ends

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a very short story so I could get back to working on Right Where I Want You but... uh  
yeah

The string on his finger had always been a curiosity to him, and how seemingly no one could see it. He asked question after question about it and his parents could only partially answer them in all of his childhood excitement, armed with his new ability to talk and unbound curiosity, he annoyed his parents to the point where they actually looked a bit annoyed, an exceedingly difficult thing to pull off. Not too much however, his parents cherished him, and his father adored his adventurous spirit.

The string was red, wound gently around his finger, such a stunning color. He couldn’t unfasten it or move it; it merely sat at his pinky, tied with a knot, connected to nothing. 

“Can you see my string?” 

“No Moomin it’s yours and yours alone, just like how you can’t see ours,” Moominmamma answered with ease and a gentle tone as she cut up vegetables in the kitchen. Moomin couldn’t remember what she had been cooking, but he remembers the scent of food and her kind green eyes looking over her shoulder at him. 

“What’s it for, papa?” Moomin questioned, and his father gave a faint smile in return, “it’s to tell you when you’ve found the person you’re meant to be with, someone that will understand and take care of you as you them,” Moominpappa had been writing, his pen scribbling word after word on the page in front of him on his dark wooden desk. He had stopped to answer, looking towards Moomin as the young boy’s face twisted in confusion, “like you and mama?” 

Moominpappa nodded, “like mama and me.”

Moomin’s face scrunched up in disgust, “I don’t want to kiss somebody like that!”

The laugh that came from his father was one he couldn’t forget, it tied the whole memory together and every time Moominpappa laughed that hard Moomin would be reminded of his foolish younger self. Turns out, young Moomintroll, that kissing was nice, very nice. 

“Who are they?” he asked them both as his parents sat together on the porch, “well they can be anyone honey, you’re just going to have to be patient.”Moominmamma said, eyes close as she leaned against Pappa, “who knows where they might be, but they will make you very happy when you find them Moomin.”

Moomin wasn’t so sure about that, how can someone he has never met make him happy? It seemed ridiculous. 

“Do you think they’ll be nice?” Moomin asked Little My as they collected shells on the beach. The day had been scorching, his father had a book in hand as his mother enjoyed the salty breeze from the ocean, vast and magnificent. Moomin wondered where they were, over the never-ending sea? Past the scaling mountains? 

“I don’t know why you’re so caught up on it Moomin. They’ll either find you or they won't, it’s as simple as that!” Little My said with certainty, it was easy for her to say when she had already found her soulmate! Moomin huffed, picking up a shell peeking from the sand and marvelling at the beautiful coating there, nacre. It shone in the sun as he held it, tilting it in his hands to watch the colors dance on the reflective surface, he was going to give this to his soul mate, wherever they may be. Whoever they may be.

He hoped they were happy.

Moomin could almost feel their hands, soft and kind surely, with dazzling eyes, “thank you Moomintroll” He knew they were going to be happy, but a part of him still hoped he didn’t make a fool out of himself when they met. If they met. 

When Moomin met Snufkin, a part of him hoped it would be him. Such a handsome vagabond with fluffy brown hair and dark brown eyes that burned like amber in the sun. Moomin hoped it was him, but his string did nothing. He and Snufkin would talk for hours, or not at all, and they would embark on adventures and his heart hoped it would be him, but nothing continued to happen day after day. Nothing about admiring his wonderful craftsmanship or his carefully stitched together smock, or watching and loving ability after ability that Snufkin had been thoroughly versed and practiced changed the lack of his string reacting to Snufkin. 

“What happened to your string when you met her?” he asked Snorkmaiden as they all sat together, Little My in her lap while Sniff ate some bread Moominmamma had given him. It was a very good piece of bread. 

Snufkin’s harmonica was playing from the otherside of the tree, giving the spring afternoon a feeling that Moomin couldn’t quite describe.

It made his chest hurt.

“Well, when your eyes meet, it feels like the world slows, and then a red line forms between the two of you, knotting itself together before it disappears.” Snorkmaiden explained it so simply, as if it hadn’t been such a big deal. They had been young when it happened, but the change in the air was instant, maybe they had simply lived with it for so long that it was just part of them.

Little My was the same, angry and vicious but with a newfound kindness to Snorkmaiden that only grew as they had. It was endearing, Moomin thought, watching them interact together. The way Little My would smile as Snorkmaiden laughed, her face flushing gently at the sound. Moomin would watch with a bit of envy, his eyes catching every detail as Snorkmaiden made Little My a flower crown. Both so happy and content, their love was as sweet as the blossoming fruit trees every spring.

Maybe Moomin had grown a bit selfish with his emotions, but he wanted that too. He wanted someone to hold and give gifts to and someone to do the same for him. He wasn’t fixated on it every day, but the pressure began to mount as he grew. 

So he told Snufkin, spilling out how he felt for the boy and how badly he wanted to hold him. He knew it could have scared Snufkin away, yet in the moment all he could think of was himself. It was a foolish thing to do, Moomin would later reflect, but it was too late to stop it as the words had poured themselves out of his mouth. He told Snufkin that he liked him with teary eyes and a strained tone only to be informed of something Moomin wasn’t completely sure he’s ever heard of, “Moomintroll, my dear friend, I don’t have a string.” 

He wanted to bombarded Snufkin with questions, asking him what they signified, had they died? Can Snufkin like someone that way at all? If he could, would he love him? Selfish questions would get no satisfactory answers. 

So instead Moomin decided to sit down and close his mouth, taking deep breaths as his best friend smoked next to him. It soothed him, the familiarity of it all. Eventually, he relaxed, tension slowly leaving his body and being replaced with emotional exhaustion, a nap later would fix him up for the most part. His heart was a little heavy and tired but Moomin himself was still ever so interested by what Snufkin meant. No string? He would have to ask Moominpappa about it later too, surely Snufkin isn’t the only one.

“I’ve always heard about the string, when I was younger I was a bit envious. All these people had someone to look forward to yes? Well so do I. Maybe not romantically but I have my friends and interesting strangers I meet beneath the stars. All across late night fires and oceans, I have Moominvalley.” Snufkin was more wise than Moomin could fully fathom sometimes. Snufkin flashed Moomin a smile, gentle and understanding, “life is more than waiting for whoever they may be, Moomintroll. It doesn’t mean they don't matter by any means, but it's not all there is.”

Moomin did ask his father later, gaining a book about the mysterious string that reflected on his silky and pale fur so well. It told him only of things he already knew, but being born with no string was uncommon but not unheard of. Some people just didn’t experience romantic attraction and it was left at that. There were cases where people had more than one string, or those who got with people that weren’t their soul mates and still lived to be happy and healthy. Turns out the string was much more complex than he thought, maybe even meaningless?

Snufkin was right though, Moomin realized, and the ache in his chest lessened day by day, month by month, year by year. It took some work, and some reminders from his friends with caring eyes and Snufkin’s reassuring hand holding, but it eased.

Every so often Moomin would stare at it in the mornings he awoke, looking at the string around his pinky and wondering where they might be. What they looked like and how they acted. Did they enjoy the same food he did? Did they even speak the same language? Whoever they were, Moomin continued to hope that they were happy, doing something they loved, that they weren’t all by their lonesome.

Moomin would look at it under the stars and sigh deeply, the ache thrumming in his bones, what if they never met? The world was boundless, they might never see each other, then what? A part of him wanted to force those feelings down as if they didn’t matter, but they did. So he would cry with all the sadness a boy could and let it fall down his face in a hypothetical sorrow. 

Those incidents had been a long time from now, the ideas of a foolish young boy. Although Moomin was still young, still foolish, still curious, his emotions had a firmer hold on themselves. The ache in his chest still lingered when he looked at the string too long, no one in sight it seemed to relieve the pain. Moomin had many other things to do in order to keep his mind off of it though, friends to have fun with, parents to help, adventures to be had. So he played and ran around, getting into trouble with his friends (mostly Snufkin) and helping around the house as he was now.

Midsummer was rolling around and Moomin was more than happy to help his parents set up the necessary decorations for the party. Consequently so were his friends, including Snufkin which he found quite amusing. He knew Snufkin wasn’t going to stay for the party itself too long and yet he watched Snufkin in his white button up set up the lights in the trees with Moominpappa to direct. He was helping Moominmamma in the kitchen, his fur filthy with spilled ingredients from an earlier incident with Sniff that placed a nice big purple stain on his stomach. Moominmamma had handed Moomin an apron not to long after that, sending Sniff outside to go help Snorkmaiden set the tables up for the confectionaries and finger foods. 

It was calming work, helping Moominmamma cut up fruits and vegetables and meat, observing her in all of her practiced ease as he merely helped pop things in the oven, getting things prepared. All smaller little details to the food until they had a vast array of things covering the kitchen, all smelling delicious and making his mouth water. Thankfully after they were done Moominmamma helped show him how to prepare soup, just for the family to eat after all their exhausting work. 

Moomin ate in silence as he listened to them all, Moominpappa announcing something about having invited old his boyhood friends. Including Sniff and Snufkin’s father, even Sniff’s grand uncle if the man wasn’t busy. Snufkin smiled, a curious smile, he’s been wanting to meet his father for a while and looks like the chance had finally come. It would be a grand occasion from the sounds of it, the noises of their chatters gradually becoming background noise as conversations overlapped. Amongst them they spoke of what to do, Sniff wanted to try out all the food, Snorkmaiden happily talking about dancing as Little My watched her. She was always a bit softer when Snorkmaiden was talking. Even after all the years, it never failed to make Moomin coo and wish for something similar, but he swiftly jerked his head away in favor for other conversations.

Snufkin gave him a gentle smile, always knowing when Moomin needed a distraction from the ache in his chest and the ache of string on his finger, “I consulted my cards this morning, regarding the party.” Snufkin murmured, like he tended to, his voice was never too loud when talking directly to people. Moomin’s ears flicked in interest, showing that he was listening as he tilted a bit closer towards Snufkin to hear,“they said something exciting will happen, I wonder what it could be? I’m sure we’ll soon find out,” he finished off with a curious and cheerful sound, his hat tipping forward and casting a shadow over his face. 

Something exciting? Well, that could be anything! With so many people coming that told Moomin absolutely nothing! The chuckle Snufkin gave as he took another sip from the soup in front of him was even more cryptic. 

Snufkin was very strange sometimes.

Moomin played with his food, sinking a few chunks of vegetables down with his spoon, he was excited absolutely, he would hopefully get to dance with Snufkin if the other boy was up for it. He would enjoy the food he worked so hard on, meet Pappa’s old friends it seemed, maybe hear more stories from them all and try to distinguish what parts were exaggerations from his father and what parts had actually happened.

The night rolled around much quicker than Moomin expected, and maybe it was because he had gone off to wash the residue of jam that stuck to his chest and tummy. Sitting in the tub, he began wondering who he should try and talk to first, that would be an adventure all on it’s own. Perhaps he could find Snufkin before his friend’s father arrived and they could have fun as guests filtered in. He hoped Snufkin wouldn’t get too uncomfortable too soon, but Snufkin was Snufkin and nothing was ever set in stone for the mumrik. 

By the time Moomin had exited the bath and dried off in his room; he could see the first guests arriving from his window as he watched the sun slowly fall behind the mountain. The glow of the lights strung in the trees over taking the grass around Moomin house with a yellow hue. It was an enchanting sight from the window, observing people he didn’t know arrive and greet his parents with such warmth.

He turned away from the window, shaking himself dry as best as he could and smiling. This was going to be a fun night, he would see sure to that. Moomin was curious about what the cards had told Snufkin and was determined to be there to see it, whatever it may be as he opened his bedroom door and all but ran down the stairs, far too excited to get into the slowly growing party. 

They had all done such a good job decorating, people were laughing and dancing as the music played from the trees and tables, his parents knew how to prepare for a party and Moomin had no doubt in his mind that it came from those of his youth. He sat next to Snufkin as the party only peaked, the sun far gone and drink in hand. The were smiling at one another as they laughed and weaved tales of those they didn’t recognize, giggling to their old childish antics and hunched near one another while they sat upon a stack of hay. It wasn’t the most comfortable seat, but it was a seat and they laughed with one another as the party continued to swing despite the discomfort. Every so often Moomin could find Snorkmaiden and Little my together amongst those at the party, laughing with one another and others, such a lovely couple they made. 

“That must be Sniff’s father, The Muddler,” Snufkin said eventually, eyes watching the timid face of a man and ripping Moomin away from his longing self-pity that had begun to form again. The man looked a bit nervous to be there but was laughing anyways with Sniff and a much taller man, looking a bit older than them both, “Hodgkins.”they both breathed, so part of the Oshun Oxtra undoubtedly had come.“They’re all much taller than I thought,” Moomin said, he hadn't expected Sniff’s father to look like that, he got his looks from his mother absolutely.

Fuzzy herself was busy talking to some strangers neither of them recognized, “they’re also older than Moominpappa had said,” Snufkin said with a cheeky smile as Moomin nudged him, “oh you know they were going to age, Snufkin!”they laughed together so warmly it helped alleviate the anxiety of the crowd in Snufkin’s stomach at the very least. 

“That’s my mother as you know,” Snufkin whispered to him after their laughter had died down, pointing to the Mymble. She was wearing a fine red and fluffy coat, her hair pulled back and makeup a lusty shade of similar crimson, lipstick glossy on her lips and leaving marks on her dark glass of wine. She was talking to Moominmamma as her children had fun in the party, laughing and playing and dancing. A few platters of food had gone missing and Moomin knew the children had taken them. Where to he wasn’t quite sure and would be a question to be solved on the cleanup. 

“What about The Joxter, Snufkin? Where’s your father?”Moomin asked, he’s only ever heard the man described to him and was curious to finally meet another mumrik. They both searched and searched until Snufkin’s eyes glanced over Moominpappa and saw the red of Joxter’s hat sticking through the crowd, “ah Moomin he’s right there!”Snufkin pointed with hardly concealed glee, to the back of a mumrik who talked to his own father. Moominpappa looked over at them both and gave them a kind smile and wave, then back to Joxter and talking.

There was a brief moment and pause as Joxter turned to look, his eyes falling to Snufkin and smiling at his son, no bad air there it seemed. Snufkin was more than happy to smile back and wave at his father, they seemed to understand one another which was a pleasant surprise. Moomin smiled as he glanced at Snufkin from the corner of his eye, and then looked back to Joxter, who was flashing him a tiny grin in greeting until their eyes met and suddenly the world felt like it halted to a stop. Joxter’s own face going slack and rapidly switching to scrunch in confusion as Moomin lifted his hand to stare at the string there, watching it stretch, and stretch, directly towards the older mumrik across the party. Joxter looked at his own had similarly, following the red line with his eyes as it extended and met the end of Moomin’s own, creating a magnificent knot before it disappeared. 

No one else had seen it of course, only they could see their strings that had so graciously disappeared, no longer wound around Moomin’s finger like it had been for so many years. Moominpappa was looking towards his own friend in confusion while the mumrik look at his paw in shock. Moomin’s eyes wandered frantically over Joxter’s distant face, Snufkin’s chuckle beside him causing the young troll to flush, looks like he was right. Exciting indeed. 

There were a few moments of silence between them, heart pounding in his chest. Joxter was his soulmate, what now? Would Joxter even want to be with him? He’s so much younger than the mumrik surely he must consider that an issue. Moomin’s eyes widened in surprise as Joxter began moving towards him, leaving Moominpappa confused and watching as the dark-haired man took large strides towards his newly realized love. His long legs absolutely helping his mission.

Snufkin sips from his drink gently as they watch Joxter push person after person out of his way, face determined and stance sure with a hand on his hat to keep it from being knocked. Someone spills their drink as they move out of his way and Moomin can’t help but laugh at her face of shock just a bit. He sits there and watches Joxter approach, at a loss of what to do. So instead, he takes a deep breath. Snufkin looks calm and poised next to Moomin as he goes ignored. Joxter stands in front of Moomin and they can both feel the eyes of people watching the commotion Joxter had caused. The mumrik doesn’t care, of course, Moomin knows Joxter doesn’t care about anyone but him right now.

Without warning, Joxter’s hands shootout to cup Moomin’s face, much more gently than he expected from the swift and blurry motion. Distantly he hears his father calling out Joxter’s name, only to be cut off in his shock as his old friend grabs his son. The way Joxter’s eyes flicker over every detail of his face makes Moomin blush, he’s so carefully inspecting him, rubbing his thumbs through his fur so sweetly that Moomin’s heart squeezes. 

Joxter can’t help but think, what a sweet boy, this is his soulmate? This cute fluffy thing so gently rest in his palms? The troll staring back at him with stars shining in his eyes?

Moomin offers him a smile as his own blue gaze catches and memorizes every detail of Joxter’s face, his soulmate, his soulmate. He was more than he could have ever hoped or dreamed of. Joxter’s pupils are delightfully blown, the narrow slits of his eyes now circles as he continued holding Moomin. There are gentle signs of aging on his face, laugh lines gently dug into the corner of his keen blue eyes, lightly places bags under his eyes, despite the fact that everyone knows he sleeps way too much. Moomin loves it; he loves all the minute details there.

He loves that he can see poems and stories all on Joxter’s face ready to be told, Moomin wants to hear them all. 

A small old scar follows part of the curve of his cheek, right underneath his eye. It’s sharp and clean, and Moomin has no clue what it could be from. A knife? A rock? A piece of a metal fence? Moomin isn’t sure, but he desperately wants to know as Joxter’s thumb continues caressing his cheek, rustling the fur there, and he can’t help but think about how handsome Moomin looks. The fur was gently parting underneath his padded thumbs, revealing the flush underneath Moomin’s fur that was so breathtakingly beautiful. 

There are people staring at them and the party seems a lot quieter now, they must be beyond confused as why the old mumrik is holding Moomintroll in such a way but it’s all lost on the newfound partners. Joxter can’t help but reflect as he absorbs every small detail on Moomin’s face. From his soft fur and charming blue eyes to the red on the boys cheeks, as he thinks of how hard he tried to not let the string bother him. He was always perplexed by it, yet he let the unknown slide off of him like water on his skin. The string was always there, and it was a taunting feeling. For years he pondered who it could be, finding no one and yet letting his heart roam free despite the string. 

Every so often, Joxter would wonder what his soulmate would think of him. Scaring himself when he realized he might actually care about someone that wasn’t even around to watch him, someone that didn’t even know him. The audacity of such an uncharacteristic train of thought was enough on its own for him to ignore the string, pretending it didn’t bother him, yet here he was, showing all how much it mattered to him. Holding Moomin ever so tenderly, the precious little thing.

There were specks of green amongst Moomin’s blue eyes, filled with curiosity and wonder and excitement as they stared at one another. Joxter nearly jumps in surprise as Moomin lifts his own tiny hands up to cradle his face, seemingly deciding his hands have stayed still for far too long. The pink pads of Moomin’s paws are squishy, much too soft on his skin and Joxter can’t help the small amount of heat that begins to lightly redden his face. His lips part just enough to take a quick breath. Moomin’s fingers begin dancing and tapping across his cheeks, tracing patterns in the hollow of his cheeks, running along his sharp jawline and taking an interest in the scruff that follows along the curve.

Moomin boops Joxter’s nose, making them both laugh quietly as the trolls thumb gently caresses the fur there, following it up to his brow and smiling widely, “oh...”a breathy sound and Joxter isn’t sure what it means but his blush only gets deeper on his sun kissed skin. Moomin can’t help but marvel, the strong jawline, sharp face just like that of a criminal, of which Moomin knew he was. Moomin wants to spread his fingers through the dark hair peeking out from underneath the red brim of his soulmates hat. Feel the fluff beneath the pads of his paws and gently push back the unruly mess. 

Is it possible (Or healthy?) to feel such warmth in his chest for someone he has only heard of? Yet he can’t help the comforting feeling flowing effortlessly in his fluffy body, admiring Joxter’s long dark eyelashes as they flutter shut. The Joxter he begins to purr, Moomin can feel the rumble in his palms as he continues to cradles Joxter’s cheeks. 

"what a handsome mumrik" Moomin whispers so gently, as if everyone could hear him. No one can, but many are watching. The both of them are so oblivious to it all, even to their own best friends that continue to watche the sickeningly sweet sight. Snufkin catches Moominpappa’s eye, watching the confusion and protective nature flicker on the older moomin’s face. He smiles back at the man, a calm and understanding smile which soothes the man's nerves it seems. The cards had mentioned blossoming love, he merely hadn’t expected this, surprised but happy to see his best friend so pleased. 

Joxter’s face only continues to heat up into a wonderful shade of red that crests from his cheeks and to the tips of his ears with the compliment. Joxter has overheard similar things before from women and men on his travels but it was different now; he hangs on to the way Moomin’s tongue curls around the syllables so beautifully. 

"I've been searching for you. My heart has pined for you over seas and underneath the shade of far grown evergreens," Joxter replies in hushed tones, making Moomin shake and he hopes it’s not a sign of something bad as he opens his eyes to watch the sparkle and shine of Moomin’s wide blue eyes, swirling with love and unbound curiosity.

How can a man be so charming? Moomin wondered briefly, how can a voice be so wondrous and words filled with adoration and resolved pining for that they have never genuinely known? He’s not sure he’ll ever get an answer to these questions, especially not to the need he feels to unravel the mystery that is Joxter. 

Moomin wants to be tucked into the older mumrik's side and listen to his deep voice from where his head would lay on his chest, listen to the laughter escape his lips and how the mumrik’s mouth would absolutely grin and twist when he's about to do something  _ awful _ for the justice system.

Snufkin stands from where he had been sitting to go stand next to Moominpappa, who still looks confused but no longer angered, “the strings are peculiar things are they not?”Snufkin mumbles and the troll nods, “indeed,” watching Joxter finally lean in towards Moomin, both so entrapped in their own space while the party continued to be hush at the event. People still walked and talked and danced but it was much more silent and sweet as their gossiping eyes looked upon the new-found lovers. 

It feels like the whole world is holding its breath as Moomin pressed their faces together, their hands falling away from one another’s faces in favor for other things to grab. Moomin’s hands chose to curl themselves in Joxter’s smock, feeling the coarse and worn fabric there while the older man’s hands went to Moomin’s shoulders. Joxter’s cheek gently met the side of Moomin’s snout, both of them breathing shallow into a classic Moomin kiss that Joxter was much to familiar with. 

They rubbed their cheeks together, such a sweet motion that made both of their heart beats getting faster. Joxter slowly tilted his head to the side, lifting away to press a mumrik kiss to Moomin’s snout. His lips pursed for a quick peck that made the younger troll smile brightly, he wanted to do that again and Joxter seemed to read his mind. Joxter repeated the motion again as the hands tightened in his smock, enjoying the soft fur against his lips and the heat beneath the lovely coat of his soulmate. Boyfriend? Was he too old for that word now?

Moomin leaned into the press of Joxter’s lips with a warm bubbling giggle as the mumrik did it again. The giggles didn’t stop as Moomin wrapped his arms around Joxter’s chest, surprising both of them as Moomin continued to laugh. Joxter paused, before wrapping his arms around Moomin, his chuckles gradually growing into uncontrollable and boisterous laughter as they both emitted utter unadulterated joy. Tears were pricking their eyes, chests aching and hands clenching into each other as they laughed and giggled together. 

When it all finally stopped, faces aching from such broad and genuine smiles, they looked at each other once again. Joxter was the first to speak, loud and clear and Moomin loved his voice that could carry song after song, “my, I hope you don’t mind being with an old man,” he joked, eyes gleaming with mirth, 

“Old man hm? Well, I hope you don’t mind going to jail for me,” Moomin cracked back just as smoothly, making them both giggle again. The conversational flow was already so easy and sincere it almost scared them both. Soulmates. What a strange concept and yet it felt so easy to embrace.

  
  


Joxter offered his hand out to help Moomin stand from his sitting on the hay only to reveal that Moomintroll could only just reach the middle of his chest. Joxter enjoyed that realization, unable to resist placing his arm around Moomin’s shoulders with a delighted trill, his tail up in the air. The boy was absolutely adorable, with such a honeyed voice and such kind features. 

It was comical, walking up to Snufkin and realizing how different everything would be after this and yet not at all. He would still embark on adventures and play with his friends, assist his mother in the kitchen and listen to Pappa recount his tales. Now he merely hopes Joxter would be there too. Talking to him, loving him in his very own mumrik way late in the night or early in the evening. Simply whenever it tickled Joxter’s fancy he hoped, because Moomin knew there wasn’t much in terms of controlling a mumrik.

The gleam in Snufkin’s eyes was welcoming as his best friend stood next to his father, who looked concerned and eager to give Joxter a talk. Joxter could only look at his father and laugh, face beaming with happiness that made Moominpappa loosen his crossed arms just a bit. 

“Was this the exciting event you were speaking about, Snufkin?” Moomin asked as Joxter rubbed his thumb over the fur of his knuckles, the mumrik’s hand was much bigger than his, with much longer fingers. Nevertheless, it just felt right holding his hand as Moominpappa and his soulmate spoke in hushed tones. His father sounding much more reprimanding than the light air that surrounded the Joxter. In reply Joxter chuckled, his chest shaking with the sound as Pappa looked far less than pleased.

Snufkin merely gave him a faint smile in return, his cup long empty as he held it with a loose grip. One of his fingers tapping at it idly with a soft sound one could only just hear over the music and chatter. Snufkin's voice holding a similar quality as he spoke, “I’m glad you were so patient Moomintroll, it’s hard I’m certain. My father better treat you well or I’ll run him out of the valley.”Moomin laughed delightfully, giving Joxter a squeeze before he caught Snufkin’s eyes, seriousness floating in his brown graze, “don’t worry, I think Moominpappa is issuing him a similar warning.” Moomin whispered to his friend as they both turned to watch their fathers talk once more, their own conversation ending as Joxter simply grinned widely and nodded. 

The party only continued after that, he and Joxter now together with Snufkin tagging along as they all talked. Joxter narrated them his own personal tales and teased them with lies and truths, left for them to figure out which was which. Stories were spun and detailed so well they could both almost see it as they fell from his toothy mug. Growing waves beyond taller than the boat, cold winters and mystical freezing ladies, injuries from Joxter being much too stupid. From the musty smell of blooming flowers tangled around trees in far away forests to beaches covered in piles of beautiful shining rocks, Joxter told what he could. Loving the way Moomin looked at him as he spoke, tales spilling out of him to make his soulmate’s eyes shine.

Moominpappa came along to help eventually;both of them adding detail upon detail to their stories and building them to be a grand piece of art. Their own respective son watching and listening in awe.

The night was beyond memorable, and both mumriks managed to stay to the end of it, much to everyone’s surprise. Not without looking exhausted but satisfied with the night of bonding that took place, which left Moomin with a particular dilemma as the party steadily began to wind down. All that was left to be done was to help clean up the food and drinks to prevent animals from running about later. Snufkin had tried helping with the mess before Moominmamma redirected him to his tent with a gentle tone, saying he looked far too tired. 

Mymble was helping with a few plates as her children slowly filed into the house, looking tired and ready to collapse from the hours of dancing and wreaking havoc, which Moomin was beyond thankful for. Hodgkins and Moominpappa continued to chat together as they brought in what cups they could find. Moomin wished to help, if it wasn’t for the Joxter that had overtaken his lap. 

Moomin sighed, running his fingers through Joxter’s hair, the man looked almost asleep. His eyes were closed as face slack as Moomin petted him, lips gently parted but breathing too fast to be asleep. His hair was soft and there was the occasional curl in the black mass, along with a few rare gray strands. Of which Moomin couldn’t help but examine between the tips of his fuzzy digits. It was relaxing to have his soulmate with him like this, his entire body exhausted but unwilling to move Joxter. Especially not when he had the chance to carefully allow his fingers to stroke his boyfriend’s face. Moominpappa looked back at him, their eyes meeting as his father and him exchanged a smile, before stepping inside, his arms filled with glassware.

Moomin could feel Joxter’s body tense; he watched Joxter’s ears flicker as they tried catching some noise, Moomin wasn’t sure of what until he was suddenly being tugged off onto his feet with a surprised squeal. Joxter moving much faster than the troll would have ever given him credit for, “Jox-Joxter wait!”but the mumrik didn’t listen, one hand on his hat and the other gripping Moomin’s own hand tightly as they ran away from the lights of Moomin house, away from the people, and right into the darkness of the midsummer night. 

Moomin was panting when they finally stopped, chest aching and he could only just distinguish the outline of Joxter’s form from the lack of light. “Joxter, what-” Moomin was cut off, and he loved the impulsive man, squealing again as they fell to the ground, Joxter’s arms tightly wound round the fluffier boy. Moomin wiggled away, laying next to Joxter and ready to question him again until he saw the shadow of Joxter’s profile, staring up at the sky. 

Moomin looked up, the stars were amazing tonight, and Joxter said nothing as Moomin laid back down next to him. Looking up towards the stars as if they would reveal him some secret, something yet to be discovered. They all twinkled distantly, and in the dark it looked like it was just for them. No lights from Moomin house, no fires from Snufkin, nothing but the stars and Joxter.

Moomin searched for his hand in the dark, Joxter quickly finding it and interlocking their fingers together again as he spoke up, “sailors can use the stars to travel, letting the brightest guide their way back.”Moomin looked up, searching for the most brilliant one amongst them all and pointing at it, certain Joxter could see better in the dark than he could, “what’s that one?”

Joxter hummed, his voice a deep rumble, “Vega?” he wasn’t certain, all the travels got his internal star maps mixed. It had been many long years since he was on a boat looking up at the flowing sky, surrounding him in the magnificent realization of his own infinitesimal existentance. Such a freeing realization, now he could share it with someone else. Looking up to the maw of the void and finding his meaning upon the earth for his own free will to follow.

Moomin spoke up, voice giddy and brimming with excitement, “really? I think I’d like to call that one Joxter.” The air was silent between them, the only noises were now their near imperceivable breathing, the distant sound of trees creaking, and far away animals. That was before Joxter tried to hold in his laughter, snorting instead but as he failed to do just that, feeling a few giggles slip from his lips. It soon then escalated to genuine laughter, guffawing might have been a better word for it as it grew hysterical, only to be broken by snorts at mediocre attempts to reel it back in. Moomin gave a loud whine, “oh it wasn’t that bad was it?”he cried, crawling over to the Joxter and laying on top of the man’s side.

“Oh it most certainly was dear, it was the worst and best thing I could have ever heard you say,” Joxter replied, wheezing as Moomin laid on him like a sack of potatoes. Moomin draped over his side so the tip of his snout had been pressed into the grass below them. Joxter moving to lay on his back, his soulmate now on his stomach as he tried catching his breath. A futile attempt as few snickers escaped him while Moomin giggled in return, “oh what a remarkable Moomin,” Joxter sighed out. 

They both said nothing after that, Moomin instead turning himself straight on Joxter, wigilling his way up until his snout was tucked gently beneath Joxter’s chin. The mumrik had begun to pur again, Moomin listened to the sound as he closed his eyes, a pair of arms wrapping around him. Joxter smelled like smoke, blood, and the forest after it rained, how strange and yet alluring. 

Joxter fell asleep first, his ability to quickly rest was amazing to Moomin as he listened to Joxter’s purr die out, replaced with the gentle fall and rise of his chest and beating of his heart. Moomin couldn't help but marvel how quickly everything changed as he watched the stars twinkle far above. Life was unpredictable like that, if the mumrik beneath him had anything to say about it. Moomin let his eyes slowly fall shut, lulled to sleep by Joxters slow breathing and warm hold. The stars above them reciting a tale of affectionate creatures, longing, and laughter long into the night, and long after the sun rose.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! I know it's long and wordy but I hope you enjoyed it anyways!


End file.
